


Something That Wings You

by Bakeneko



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angels, Castiel Makes a Deal with The Shadow (Supernatural), Castiel is Saved from the Empty (Supernatural), Castiel's Birthday (Supernatural), Castiel's Wings, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Dean Winchester Can See Castiel's Wings, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, Magic, Tender Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:33:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23327803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bakeneko/pseuds/Bakeneko
Summary: Dean searches for and finds a spell that will result in Castiel regaining his wings. Of course, not everything happens as planned — a side effect of the spell interferes. But it turnes out to be helpful... And the deal with the Emply problem is solved by itself.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 12
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [То, что тебя окрыляет](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/572308) by Sylverine. 



> This is my translation from Russian. The original fic is also mine. 
> 
> I decided to keep Lily alive and looking young as we remember her from season 12. Well, I like her, wut? :)

Sam Winchester sauntered towards the library, holding a mug of strong, freshly brewed coffee in one hand, filling the corridor of the Men of Letters bunker with its aroma. He was walking down the stairs from the kitchen to the sacred repository of knowledge, his favorite laptop clutched to his side with his other hand. Having taken a shower after a morning run along the quiet streets of morning Lebanon, the younger Winchester intended to sit down at one of the massive oak tables and look for a new case for himself and Dean, while his brother was probably still snoring peacefully, watching the not-so-decent morning dreams.

But just as Sam set the items on the smooth, polished surface, there was a sharp thud from under the next table, and the muffled voice of the senior hunter.

— Son of a bitch! — he hissed through his clenched teeth.

With a quick glance at the nearest rack of collectible weapons, Sam grinned with relief as he tossed his damp hair back from his forehead, walked around the table, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched as the brave hunter Dean Winchester crawled out from under an antique piece of furniture and rubbed the back of his hurt head.

— Good morning, Sammy, — Dean greeted his brother cheerfully. Perhaps a little too cheerfully for such an early hour, and for a man who crawls under a table in the morning wearing old, sooty welding goggles, which Sam mentioned with a puzzled grimace:

— Good morning to you, too, Dean. What are you doing, going to steampunk early in the morning?

— Erm... Well, I couldn't sleep, went to the garage to see Baby... found these glasses, decided to try them on... — Dean started to explain, sounding not very confidently. He pushed the glasses on his forehead and smiled even wider, thrusting his hands in his jeans pockets.

— Yeah, that's exactly what I thought, — Sam stepped closer and brushed the dust off his brother's shoulder. — You often get up early and go to the library looking fresh as a daisy. And crawl under tables. Though the latter happens not so rarely, — taking a step back, Sam gave him a critical look and added: — Now tell me what's really going on.

Realizing that resistance was futile, Dean automatically, though perhaps as a hidden counterattack, picked up the coffee mug from the table, ignoring Sam's indignant look, quickly gulped half of it, and decided to show his cards.

— You know, Sam, the thing is... Do you remember when we celebrated your birthday the other day? — he pushed his goggles up on his head, flattening the top of his light brown hair, and looked Sam in the eye with a serious expression. — Well, we climbed out on the roof of the bunker with beer and pizza, basked in the sun, chatted there about different things — and it was cool, right?

— Yes, Dean, how can I forget that? By the way, thank you very much for giving me that collection of documentaries about serial killers, I really appreciate it, — Sam smiled on the way back for another cup of coffee and motioned his brother to come along. — It's not a big deal that more than half of it is pure malarky…

— Oh, you meanie! — Dean pretended to be offended, emptying the last drops of coffee into his mouth as they reached the kitchen. — Pour me some more, be a good boy.

The remaining coffee, to Sam's delight, was just enough for two mugs, and the brothers sat down opposite each other at the table with round wooden seats.

— Don't get distracted, Dean, — Sam reminded him of the real subject of their conversation. — So what about my birthday and your crawling on the floor?

— Oh, well... Remember the three of us, we and Cas, were talking about birthdays?" I be like like, "Cas, when is your birthday?" And he started to say something about the years, that it didn't matter, in short, he was overmodest, as he often does…

— Yeah, yeah, — Sam smiled, his face unreadable, and said in a deep voice, imitating the angel: — Considering the huge difference in the life span of angels and humans, and given the many different systems of chronology, I would say that…

***

— ...my birthday doesn't matter a bit compared to the scale of the Universe.

Castiel raised his azure eyes to the blue may sky of the same color, watching the snow-white clouds drift across it. They were as fluffy and light as the cotton candy he'd tasted on the Fourth of July last year, when he and the Winchesters had stopped by the amusement park on their way back from another hunt which was not too tiring. He had almost forgotten the question that Dean had asked, just enjoying the warm spring breeze and the company of his best friends, with whom he sat leaning against the water tank on the roof of the Men of Letters bunker and sipping beer from a steaming brown bottle — more for the company of the brothers, because to feel even a hint of intoxication, he would probably have to drink a small tank of that bitterish drink. Dean, who had by this time become quite cheerful, heartily put his hand on Cas' shoulder, bringing the angel back to reality.

— Come on, Cas, that's not fair! Look, it's Sammy's birthday, and we're celebrating so well, everyone's in a festive mood... Right, Sammy?

— That's right, Dean, it's been a long time since the three of us had such a good rest. — Sam took a sip of beer from his bottle and pulled his jacket tighter around him. — It's just windy here, but I like it. And thank you for the great gift!

— I like it here, too, Dean, — Castiel said, and saluted the younger Winchester with his bottle. — Happy birthday, Sam!

The three of them clinked their bottles together and took another sip.

— Well, - Dean continued his thought, - if we all like it, then we must celebrate your birthday, Cas! Or else such a great holiday is lost! Yeah, and you will get presents — isn't it a good thing? — the hunter asked.

Castiel smiled reservedly and looked down at his bent knees.

— I... Dean, I really never thought about my date of birth, it's hard to calculate it based on human concepts, — he contemplated for a moment, tilting his head to his right shoulder where Dean's hand rested, and bending his eyebrows. — You can say it was autumn then…

— Not much, — Dean said, disappointed. Okay, let's say. I'm going to take my phone and tap the calendar — whatever date I get to, it's going to be it. Oops, I didn't take my phone upstairs... Okay then, I'll tap later.

— You can tap mine, — Sam said, taking his phone and holding it out to Dean in front of the confused Cas.

— No, not your phone, — Dean said, waving his hands in protest. — I haven't drunk enough to figure out how to use it!

Sam shrugged and put the device back in his pocket.

— What would you like to get as a birthday present, Cas? — he asked. — There's no way to escape this, it's people's tradition to give presents to the birthday boy.

— Exactly! Sammy, you stole my line — that's me who wanted to ask that. Or do you want a surprise, Cas? That's more interesting, isn't it, Sam?

— No doubt! — Sam pursed his lips jokingly, remembering his present and how proud and pleased Dean looked when he handed it to his brother.

Confused Castiel, caught between two drunken Winchesters, like between Scylla and Charybdis, had no choice but to capitulate.

— I would prefer surprise, — he muttered, hastily pouring the remaining beer from the bottle into his mouth to hide his flushed cheeks…

***  
— ...Is that the matter? — Sam asked, puzzled, and grinned. — Then why do you need these dusty goggles? You're not going to give them to Cas, are you?

— If you make fun of me, I'll give them to you! — Dean removed the goggles that were held on to his head by a coarsened leather strap and placed them in front of him. — Look, Sam, this isn't just a retro accessory. Damn, that's a helluva tongue twister. So, the lenses of these goggles are annealed by holy fire — remember the ones we used to see the hellhounds?

— A hellhound sucks as a present, too! — Sam exclaimed, nearly spilling his coffee.

— Wait, Sammy, don't interrupt. You can see not only hellish creatures that are invisible to the human eye, but... well, a knowledgeable person told me that you can see the wings of an angel through them. Not the true form — it burns out one's eyes, you know, but, as Cas said... another layer of reality where their wings exist... something like that.

Sam listened to his brother, his mouth open in surprise, and even forgot to ask what was next when he paused to take a sip of coffee. Still talking and looking serious, as if in a confession, Dean summed it up:

— I'm looking for something that can't be seen without... — And he nodded at his goggles. His green eyes didn't blink as he stared at the puzzled Sam. — Sammy, I need an archangel's feather.

***

Lily Sunder drained a glass of the most expensive whiskey and, after a brief pause, carefully but emphatically tapped it on the bar.

— Well, thank you, Dean. But what makes you think I'm going to help you? Didn't I make it clear last time?

She tossed her red curls and looked stubbornly at the Winchester, who was sitting next to her, with a dark, fluffy-lashed right eye, while the left was hidden by the familiar black patch.

— I'm betting on my own irresistibility and tenacity, it almost always works,— Dean said with a charming smile. — Bartender, please! — he held up two Victoria fingers to the long-haired bartender, and two more whiskies appeared in front of the strange couple.

— The key word is "almost", — Lily replied sarcastically, looking absently at the liquor shelves and still taking her glass. — Even if I could give Castiel his wings back, I wouldn't do it.

— But you forgave him that time, didn't you? — Dean frowned, sensing her resistance, but continued this hard conversation with the uncooperative sorceress. — You are the only person I know who knows angels' magic, so who should I ask to but you?

— Okay, Dean Winchester, — Lily said, turning her entire body on the high bar stool and leaning closer, her gaze drilling into his. Her low voice clearly aquired some steel notes. — First of all. Yes, I forgave him, but that means I changed my mind about killing him, not that I want to help him. Second — she leaned back a little, swinging one slim leg in slinky trousers over the other and raising the glass to her scarlet mouth, and her voice softened a little. — I just don't know how to do it, Dean. There is no such spell in my arsenal.

The sorceress took another sip and turned away again, resting her elbows on the bar.

— No spell... dammit, — Dean muttered through his gritted teeth, and leaned against the counter as well. — But you might create it? You're a smart woman with a lot of experience in angels' magic! I'm not alluding to your age, of course...

— Dean, — Lily said, taking the hunter firmly by his forearm with her slender fingers, — I've already told you, and this is my final answer. No. I can't help you.

Dean dropped his head to his chest and exhaled sharply, trying to accept the failure. Frustration and anger clenched tight in his chest, crushing the last remnants of hope, and he did not immediately notice that the willful sorceress was in no hurry to leave. He looked up as she finished her drink, holding her glass in one graceful hand and holding up the finger of her other hand, telling Dean not to interfere. Setting the glass on the counter, she picked up her purse, took out an expensive gilt pen and a small, elegant notebook, and wrote a few numbers.

— I am old and all that, but I know what a phone is. I hope you do, too, — she said, now a little coquettishly, as she stood up and handed Dean the sheet of paper she had just torn from her notebook. — You were wrong not only in who you should ask, but also in thinking that I was the only person who was familiar with angels' magic.

In disbelief, Dean reached out and carefully took the small piece of paper, as if afraid it would crumble to dust at his touch.

— Call and say hi from me. I think they'll help you.

Turning her back, the sorceress had already taken a couple of steps when the Winchester said softly:

— Thank You, Lily…

* * * 

— So this man needs an archangel's feather in exchange for a spell? — Sam asked, when Dean gave him a rough outline of what he had achieved when he finally called on that phone number.

— No, Sammy, you got it wrong. A feather is needed as an ingredient of the spell, and he agreed to help for free. Rather, they are two of them, and one of them is... mmm... not human.

The flood of information was pouring at Sam so fast that it was hard for him to make sense of it. In addition, he could barely keep up with his older brother, who put on those strange goggles again and went in search of an archangel's feather, for which, apparently, he was going to turn the entire bunker upside down.

— We've had two archangels in our hideout, — Dean commented enthusiastically, scanning the space available to the eye, pushing furniture aside and peering into less accessible corners along the way. — Why don't we start by looking here, because there's a good chance, — he grunted as he pushed back the sofa in the living room, — that there's something here, — and then he was on all fours checking the floor under the chair, — lying around…

— Dean, wait! — said his brother, who had just caught up with him. — Can you slow down for a minute?

— Wanna help? I will be happy if you join me! Just smoke one more pair of goggles.

— Dean, why don't you sit down and wait a few minutes, okay? I really want to help Cas to get his wings back, too, so just stop and breathe. I'll be right back.

Dean sat down on the old-fashioned embroidered sofa and took off his goggles again, wiping the sweat from his hot forehead. It was his turn to be puzzled. A few minutes later, Sam did return, carrying an oblong wooden box. It seemed to Dean he saw one in the bunker's storage room. Sam sat down next to him and warnedr:

— No unnecessary questions, okay?

— Is there a catch? — Dean asked doubtfully.

— No, it's alright. You'll understand. Give me those stupid goggles.

Putting on the goggles, Sam carefully opened the box, looked inside, and a sad smile appeared on his face.

— Here, look…

The goggles went back to Dean. He moved closer and saw it. Inside, on worn green velvet, lay a bronze-colored feather nearly a foot long. Golden sparks danced on its silken surface, continuing in the soft radiance that surrounded it.

—This is... — Dean started.

—It's Gabriel's feather. A gift. He gave it to me before he disappeared after... after he killed Asmodeus. The only thing that reminds me of him after he died. — Dean was now looking at his younger brother, whose voice had faltered, but he quickly regained his composure. — Though memory is not a physical object, but something that remains in one's heart. — Sam closed the box and handed it to Dean. — This is a worthy use of such a gift, Gabriel would be happy.

Dean pulled the goggles down around his neck and stared at Sam for a moment, who in turn watched his older brother's funny expression change.

— So it means you and Gabriel…

— It means the extra questions, we had an agreement earlier, remember, Dean? — Sam interrupted hastily, confused. — At least not now, okay?

— Um... Okay. I understand. Are we going?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Poland is a small town in Indiana.

— Where exactly are we going? — Sam wondered as he and his brother loaded a couple of travel bags into the Impala and drove out of Lebanon onto the highway. There was no doubt in Dean's mind that his younger brother would go with him, and it didn't even occur to Sam to ask if Dean wanted to go with him or if he would rather deal with it alone. They simply got into their old-fashioned car, which however was in excellent condition as always, and drove off to the southeast.

— We're going straight to Poland*, — Dean said with a sly smile, glancing sideways at Sam for his reaction.

— Oh, I see, to Indiana, then? — the younger hunter asked matter-of-factly. — We should be there by nightfall.

— Dammit, Sammy, you've ruined the joke, — Dean pouted, and slapped the steering wheel with annoyance. — I thought you were going to start wondering how we were going to get to Europe on Baby, and you... Oh, you're a spoilsport! A prize-winning downer!

* * *

In the evening they were going to reach the small settlement in Western Indiana that could only be called a town by someone with a good imagination. The everlasting road, where the hunters used to spend most of their time, was sometimes exhausting, but it was something so familiar and even cozy that the brothers had long felt at home during their constant travels along the United States highways.

— Dean... Is this going to be an Enochian magic spell? — Sam asked after he had passed out and slept for half an hour due to watching the monotonous rural landscape outside the Impala's window. — And this warlock is going to use a part of his soul just for free so that you can give Cas new wings?

Dean lowered his gaze for a split second and continued to stare at the stiff gray ribbon of the road running toward them. — I'm the one who gives Cas the present, so the soul necessary for the spell must be mine, too.

Sam frowned and let out a sharp breath that should have meant disapproval. Dean was silent, smiling slightly, so Sam was about to break the long silence that seemed to precede another argument between the brothers, which they were both used to.

— Don't worry about it, Sammy, — Dean said, trying to settle the the dispute which hadn't yet begun. — The spell doesn't take much of it, just one spark... So it's like a catalyst in a chemical reaction, and that's all — well, you know more about chemistry than I do. That's what the guy we're going to see explained to me. And... when are you going to start nagging at me?..

Sam sighed again and shook his shaggy head. He had tried many times to dissuade Dean from questionable activities, and few of these attempts were successful, so he was in no hurry to voice his doubts, looking at his brother expectantly.

— That's smart of you, Sammy, you know it's no use. That's why I didn't tell you all the details until we left, because I knew you'd try to talk me out of it. You'd better not waste your time, this warlock Ogden has already tried to do that. Believe me, I know what I'm doing and what I'm risking. Compared to what Cas has done for me, how many years he's been with us and saved our asses, it's nothing! Just a little spark of soul to make this magic work — I'm ready to do much more for him…

— I know, Dean, — Sam interrupted, and gave him two understanding pats on the shoulder. — I'm not going to nag at you, and you don't have to prove anything to me. I'm not happy about the risk you're going to take, but... it's us, Dean! We take risks and survive so often that probability theory just has got nothing on us! So yes, I'm with you. I think you need an outside point of view, so that you don't accidentally mess up... which also happens regularly with us.

Dean looked at the younger brother in disbelief and made a surprised face.

— Hmm... For once in a while, you're supporting what you consider an obvious gamble. I'm not dreaming, am I?— he paused and changed his tone from derisive to serious. — Cas misses his wings so much... He's only mentioned it a couple of times, but I can see how much he misses them. If I had known earlier that kind of angels' magic was available to humans, I wouldn't have hesitated to return them to him much sooner. And ever since we met Lily, I couldn't get this idea out of my mind…

— Oh, I remember the way we and her were to get to know each other wasn't too easy, — Sam said, scratching his head nervously. — Especially for Cas. Though it was a couple of years ago — what took you so long to get ready?

— Well, the idea should have matured! And it wasn't easy to find Lily, also without my nerdy brother suspecting anything, — Dean chuckled as Sam shook his head and rolled his eyes again. — And then, when Jack needed help, all we had to do was to complete the search officially, and you helped. Of course, I didn't really want to disturb her, especially after she brought the kid back to life. This cost her a lot of effort, and I tried not to be too bold, but waited for her to recover more or less. Cas is doing well without his wings... like a wheelchair user — one can live, and assure everyone that this is a full life. Just it's not full at all, especially when a person could walk, and then — bam! and he's already a cripple.

— You're so worried about him, — Sam muttered, and got embarrassed by his own tone, — though I understand you. I'd worry too if I were you…

— Oh, buddy, after all he's been through since he's been stuck with us in this dusty box called our world... after we've lost each other so many times... Dammit, I'll do anything to see him happy!.. Wait, what do you mean, “if you were me”?

— Like you don't know, — Sam grinned, and turned to the window. — You love him, Dean.

The older hunter frowned in confusion at his brother's words, and almost missed the turn to the south. Hoping that Sam didn't notice the blood rush to his face, he shrugged as calmly as possible.

— Of course I do! He is our family, and has been for a long time. I love you too, Sammy, you know that. But I don't like all this touchy-feely bullshit, so you had it coming.

To Dean's relief, Sam continued to stare out the window of the Impala at the endless fields of soybeans and corn.

— That's not what I meant, Dean, — Sam said, mimicking his brother's tone, —"you know," — and smiled at the corner of his mouth closest to Dean.

— What are you trying to say? That I'm in love with Cas or something? — Dean exploded, his green eyes wide with indignation. — Well, you're out of your damn mind, you asshat!

— Actually, you've just said that, not me, — the younger Winchester continued to tease, seeing Dean's face finally turn red and every freckle be clearly visible. — Come on, that's great! I'm glad you finally admitted it to yourself!

* * *

When it began to get dark, the Impala of the Winchesters was several miles from Poland, and Dean took out his phone to inform the mysterious warlock of his close arrival. After several beeps, which seemed longer to Dean than they really were in his excitement, a calm male voice pronounced:

— Hello, Mr. Winchester.

— Good evening, Mr. Green, — Dean greeted him politely in a somewhat uncharacteristic manner, which drew a surprised look from Sam.

Poland was so small that there was not a single motel in the town or in the surrounding settlements, which Mr. Green kindly warned him about and invited Dean to his house, giving him the address. When Dean said that his brother was with him, the phone went silent for a couple of seconds, as if the man was consulting someone.

— Well, then, — said the voice, — I hope you know the saying 'the more, the merrier' firsthand.

— How kind of him, — Sam noticed, after his brother hung up. — It's even a little suspicious.

— Sometimes people are nice just because they're really nice. Although I wouldn't relax either until we figure out what's up.

Dean stopped the car at a small, neat house next to the post office, the brothers got out of the car and went up the steps. Before Dean's hand could touch the doorbell, the door was opened by a very pretty young woman in a lengthy, pale blue dress with short sleeves that accentuated her large blue eyes with long, light lashes. Her thick blond hair was piled high in a bun, and a few loose curls framed her delicate features. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she looked quickly from one hunter to the other, and a tender smile played across her face.  


— Hello, Dean Winchester and…

— Sam, — the younger brother introduced himself, smiling, — Sam Winchester.

— Come in, please, — the woman said warmly, and opened the door wider. — I'm Mattie, Mr. Green's wife, — she said, — he'll be right here soon. Come into the living room and make yourself comfortable.

— Very nice to meet you, Mattie, — Dean grinned, looking around the cozy room. — We've just passed the hairdresser shop “Mattie's…

— Oh yes, it's mine, — explained the lady. — Why don't you sit down, my husband is already on his way.

Soon enough, a short, middle-aged man came down the stairs from the second floor. A little overweight, with light brown hair and a small beard, wearing soft home trousers and a shirt with the sleeves rolled up — in general, quite an ordinary-looking man, if not for the piercing gaze of deep-set brown eyes that he looked at each of the Winchesters in turn with.

— Welcome, Dean and Sam, — the host smiled at them, somehow knowing exactly which of the brothers was who. — Don't get up, no formalities, please. Ogden Green, nice to meet you, — and he shook hands with each of them as he sat down in the chair opposite the couch where the hunters were sitting. — You can call me just Ogden.

— You have a nice home, Ogden, — Sam complimented the warlock's house, looking around as Dean sniffed the delicious smell of home-cooked food wafting from the kitchen.

— It's mostly my dear wife's achievement, — Ogden said, smiling as Mrs. Green came up, and she laid a gentle hand on her husband's shoulder.

— Honey, dinner's ready. Dean, Sam, please join us!

Her slender fingers slid playfully over Ogden's beard, and she had taken a few steps back toward the kitchen when Dean, with an awkward cough, decided to get straight to the point.

— Actually, we've come to you with a problem... Not to seem rude, but can we discuss it with your husband right away, Mattie?

The lady turned to the men with a smile, and the pupils of her eyes shone with blue light, gradually becoming brighter.

— Matariel, — she said in a ringing voice that was both human and non-human. — That's my full name.

Her entire slender body filled with light from within, illuminating the small living room, and the huge shadows of her stunning angel wings unfolded on the wall where Mattie stood with her back to it. The air around her vibrated with power. A newspaper flew off the coffee table with a rustle of its pages, dishes rattled in the kitchen cupboard, and Sam's hair fluttered up and down for a second like a lion's mane. The Winchesters squinted in the glare, fascinated by the magnificent sight. Matariel folded her wings behind her back and spread them out again, displaying their splendor, then the light that filled her faded together with the outline of her wings.

— As I can understand from the look on your faces, I got the nature of the problem you've come to solve clearly, — she said in her usual melodious voice. — So let's discuss it over dinner in a more cozy atmosphere.

Again a soft smile graced her sweet face, and she beckoned the three men into the kitchen.

— We don't mind at all! — Dean responded enthusiastically, recovering from his surprise as he got up from the couch and nodded for Sam to join.

— You can keep your weapons if it's convenient to you, — Ogden added. — We understand and do not mind it, because we are actually strangers to you yet.

— Oh, — Sam said in embarrasement, — you have a penetrating eye. We're sorry…

— I kind of have it, and don't worry, — the host said, gesturing sincerely toward the kitchen.

* * *

— This is just heavenly tasty! — Dean said, taking a second helping of the delicious lasagna. — Mattie, I didn't know angels could cook so well!

— Oh, believe me, Dean, angels can do a lot of things if they want to learn! — she looked tenderly at Ogden, who was sitting next to her, and he put his arm lovingly around her slender shoulders.

— Mattie taught me a lot, too, although I thought I was pretty good at Enochian magic before she came into my life. She is an innovator and is not afraid of experiments, which makes me very happy.

— You mean magic, don't you, darling? — Mattie cooed, looking at her husband with a mischievous smile.

Sam didn't miss the way his brother lowered his eyes, delicately trying not to choke, and he slightly kicked Dean under the table.

— May I ask how you met? — Sam asked with a polite smile and nodded gratefully as the hostess added another spoonful of juicy salad to his plate. — If it's not a secret, of course.

— No, it's not, — Mattie said, softly looking at her husband again. — When the angels fell from heaven, Ogden found me in a field nearby. I was injured very badly in the fall, not to mention my wings — there was almost nothing left of them. I didn't even believe I was going to survive. My life almost faded when he appeared and saved me with his magic, giving me a part of his soul.

— I found my fallen star, — the man said admiringly, without taking his eyes off Matariel. — And she stayed with me.

— They didn't make you go back to Heaven? — Dean asked. — Angels aren't to gentle with the willful — they try their best to bring them to justice in all sorts of creepy ways.

— We've been waiting for this, — Ogden explained. — I told Mattie she probably should go back, but she wouldn't listen.

— None of the other angels showed up, neither a month later when I recovered, nor even six months later when my husband and I developed and applied the spell you've come for... Apparently, they thought I was dead and stopped looking for me.

— And you used another spell to hide yourself from possible searches, just in case, didn't you, darling? — the warlock chuckled.

— Yes, there happened such an amazing thing, — Mattie agreed jokingly. — Now, if you're all full, I'll clear the table.

After thanking her for the dinner, the Winchesters got up from the comfortable light-wood chairs, Matariel waved a hand, and all the plates, forks, and knives on the table disappeared, ending up in the cupboard, consideringing a short ding-dong that came from there. There was no doubt all the used kitchen utensils were perfectly clean.

— I hate washing dishes, — she said shortly. — Well, Dean, Sam, get some rest, and I need to find a couple of ingredients for the spell. We'll apply it tomorrow, as they say, with a fresh mind. But, Dean... I have to tell you something. If you really want to help your angel regain his wings, then you must have a really deep connection with him, or the spell won't work. Let me take a look…

— He's not my... — Dean began, but his words were cut off when Matariel gently touched his forehead. It felt like a quiet whisper went through his head, and an invisible force touched his heart softly, as if a light, cool cloth slid across his chest.

— Beautiful, — the angel's lips curved in a pensive smile. — That's just perfect, Dean. Everything will be fine.

And Mattie disappeared with a rustle of her wings hidden from human eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

With a disappointed grimace, Dean stared at his fist, which had failed him again in this ridiculous child's game. Sam didn't seem to think so, though, which was evident from the cunning smile on his face as he waved his open hand in front of his brother's face. Paper wins over rock. Who the hell thought up such nonsense?

— It's okay, Dean, — his brother assured him, — the armchair looks pretty comfortable, too. And don't even think about perching on the edge of the bed when I fall asleep, it was a fair game!

— Yeah, — the older growled out, plopping down in the armchair next to the bed, where Sam lay impressively with his long legs stretched out and his hands behind his head. — Give me a pillow, you occupant, one is enough for you.

Catching the bedding that had flown into his hands, Dean angrily tucked it between his head and the back of the armchair and closed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

— Do you really trust them? — he heard the muffled junior's voice.

— I don't trust anyone, Sammy, — Dean said lazily, and showed his brother the inside pocket of his jacket where an angel blade was hidden. — Well, almost no one... and you know where my gun is. Better turn off the light.

— Okay.

Flipping the switch, Sam returned to the well-won bed and soon felt the encircling embrace of sleep. Not for long, though — Dean's whisper came from the armchair:

— Hey, Sam... Were you and Gabriel really... you know, together?

Sam rolled over fitfully and after a moment reluctantly whispered in a morose voice:

— Not really, Dean. I wasn't joking, it just didn't work out. It was too late... He was dead before any of us could make the first move. In short — something like that, and it's probably enough.

— Dammit, —Dean wished he hadn't started asking questions. — I... I'm really sorry, Sammy.

— I understand, Dean. Thanks. Just sleep already.

The older hunter's tired mind swirled lazily with the question of whether it was possible for a man to be romantically involved with an angel... Then the question flowed smoothly into the moment when he first saw Mattie and did not even allow the thought that “she may be an angel, because she is a wife of a man... well, a warlock, but still a man... so... why not... why…“

Consciousness left Dean insensibly, and when, seemingly after a moment, he opened his eyes, gradually catching the sensations in his waking body, partially stiff from sleeping in the chair, it was already dawn. The cold morning light fell in through the window through a pale, translucent curtain, and the bed where Sam had fallen asleep the night before was empty. The first thing that came to Dean's mind was the desire to occupy the vacant soft bed "before my brother comes back from... well, where they go in the early morning... maybe for a run, yeah…“

This crafty plan was not to become true, however, and it became clear to the older Winchester when his half-awakened hunter ear caught the sound of low voices in the kitchen below. Two soft male voices, Sam's and Ogden's, were quietly discussing something, but Dean couldn't make out the words, so curiosity made him shake off the remnants of his sleep, leave the guest bedroom, and walk down the wooden stairs, rubbing his face with his hands.

The two men were really sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee in a family way, the delicious aroma of which Dean had smelled just when he came out on the stairs. His footsteps interrupted their morning conversation, and the way they looked at Dean indicated that they were waiting for him. A small bronze-and-glass oil-lamp with a steady orange flame sat on the edge of the table nearest to Dean, and a wooden box containing Gabriel's pen was placed next to it. In the very middle of the table there was a vase of twisted blue glass, in which stood a branch of some plant with beautiful large pink flowers with crimson streaks on the petals.

— Morning, — Dean mumbled, his voice husky with recent sleep. — What a romantic atmosphere you have here. Flowers…

The smell of the flowers was rather strange, not quite clear whether it was pleasant or repulsive, and Dean reached out to touch the weird petals inquisitively.

— Whoa, whoa, Dean! — Sam, sitting next to him, caught his wrist warningly. — I wouldn't advise you to touch them!

— Wow, do they bite? Okay, okay, I won't, you nerd.

He heard Mattie's silvery laughter from a small kitchen settee at the other end of the table, he hadn't noticed her the dim light at first. She was sitting there sideways, with her feet cozily tucked, and also holding a cup of coffee. Her blond curls fell carelessly over her slender shoulders.

— Good morning to you, too, Dean, — she said softly. — I'll get you some coffee. You don't mind, do you?

— Sit down, Dean, — Ogden invited, — and be really careful with this plant. This is burning bush, one of the two ingredients of our spell that Mattie found.

— Like God's talking bush? — Dean chuckled, happy to have an opportunity to display his erudition.

— That's right, and it's also a poisonous plant that can cause quite nasty burns, — Sam added, saluting with his mug, — and you're welcome.

— I would heal them, — Matariel said with a smile as she walked over to Dean and placed another mug with a painted cupid on it on the table in front of him. — I had to try a little and convince this specimen to bloom, because usually the burning bush blooms in June.

— You're very persuasive, — Ogden took his wife's hand affectionately and moved the lamp closer to Dean. — And this fire is taken from a rowan tree set on fire by a lightning.

— When we were looking for these components to restore my wings, it took some effort, — Mattie said thoughtfully. — And it took a while to find the right combination. But now that I have my wings back, all I need is to know where to look, and that's not hard for me either.

— The most difficult part is over for us, — the warlock agreed.

Mattie took a step toward Dean and put a slender hand on his shoulder.

— I hope Castiel will be as happy to have his wings back as I was.

— Wait, — the hunter said suspiciously, raising an anxious gaze to the angel. — I didn't tell you his name!

— Oh, don't worry, Dean, — Matariel said, looking around for a place to sit next to her, and then, without thinking, settled into her husband's lap, while he put his arm around her slim waist. — I sensed who he was when I touched you to see if the spell would work in your case. I saw him deep in your heart. I'd known Castiel for a long time, though I'd only met him a couple of times. He was famous among all the angels — a brave commander of the garrison, a dashing and fearless warrior, at the very name of whom the demons of Hell, and, let's say, some angels, too, trembled with horror. I admired him from afar, like so many others, because I was not a warrior and could not even dream of being in his garrison. Only the best soldiers were taken there, and I... I was an angel of rain, and my life was going far from angelic battles. Only once did I manage to talk to him, when we accidentally met into each other on Earth. I was watching a tropical downpour somewhere in what is now India, and he came down while returning from one of his military campaigns. He was very tired and just silently admired my creation, and then came up to me and said that it was beautiful... He was looking at it for a long time, and I did not know what to say, because the words stuck in my throat... — with a sigh, Mattie stood up, clapped her hands, causing the hunters who listened to her attentively to flinch slightly, and continued in a businesslike tone: — So, anyway, it's a great honor for me to help Castiel, and I'm glad that I can do something for him. If everyone has finished their coffee, we can start, otherwise the smell of these flowers can give people a headache.

— Wow, what, right now? — Sam asked. — Dean, are you ready?

— Sure, — Dean said seriously, frowning. What should I do?

— We're going to need some of your blood, Dean, — Ogden explained, taking out a small earthenware bowl that had been prepared in advance and handing Dean a knife with a fancy bronze handle. Sam's face twitched nervously, though he'd seen such a scene before before.

— Well, I'm used to it, — with a grin, he drew his combat knife from the sheath at his belt and slashed his palm with a trained motion. Heavy crimson drops clattered on the bottom of the bowl.

— Dean, that's enough! Mattie exclaimed after a few seconds, and the hunter bound up the injured hand with a bandana that he took from the inside pocket of his jacket. — Give me your hand.

She took the bloody cloth from the wound and passed it over with her narrow hand, which shone with a radiant light. After a moment, during which Dean felt a strong but gentle warmth, the pain dissapeared without any trace as well as the wound.

— Thank you, Matty, — Dean said, looking at Ogden. — What's next in the plan?

Matariel took the branch of flowers from the vase, without fear of being burned, because it was not at all dangerous for her, broke it into pieces with a few movements, and threw it into another bowl, larger than the first, taken from a nearby cupboard. Shaking her fingers to free them from the poisonous oils of the bush, she stood next to her husband.

— Now the spell itself, — he said, and took a folded piece of paper from his vest pocket. — Dean, you should write it in your blood.

When Dean had diligently copied a few lines of Enochian symbols onto another piece of paper with the pen Mattie had given him, Ogden carefully placed the paper on top of the broken branch in the bowl.

— It's your ingredient's turn, Sam.

The younger hunter carefully picked up the oblong box containing the treasure he had brought — the archangel's feather. He snapped two small locks on the side of the box, opened it, and handed it to the wizard. The latter looked at the feather with fascination and took it in his hands with awe, looking at it with an admiring glance.

— Can you see it? — Sam asked excitedly.

"Of course I do. It's a pity that it won't last long — it's great.

Invisible to the hunters, the feather also fell into the bowl.

— Well, get ready, Dean, and take a deep breath. Take the lamp, unscrew the larger wick, and bring it slowly to the bowl, — Ogden continued to instruct. — It's going to feel a little weird, but not really bad...

Squinting warily, Dean brought the bright flame of the lamp closer to the components in the bowl. In an instant, blue fire hissed high above the earthen vessel. A wave of power and heat passed through Dean's body, as if the explosion of an artillery shell had almost silently occurred right in front of him, throwing him back. It seemed to him that something caught fire in the depths of his chest, as if gunpowder crackled up somewhere behind his ribs and instantly went out, leaving a scorched trail.

When he came to, he found himself sitting in the chair from which he had risen when they began to prepare the spell. Sam's worried face loomed in front of him, his brother looked into his eyes and shook him by the shoulder. The fog was gradually clearing before his eyes, and he could see Matariel standing next to him, holding an extinguished lamp.

— We almost burned down the house last time, — said the warlock's voice from the side. Ogden shook a tiny, charred piece of paper off Dean's shoulder and continued as the hunter sat up, blinking, — practice makes perfect. And the side effect of this spell was funny.

— The side... effect? — Dean questioned doubtfully.

— You didn't say anything about that! — Sam alerted. — What's kind of effect?

— Absolutely nothing to fear! — Ogden assured, helping Dean to his feet. — Just a little emotional instability on the part of the person performing the ritual, which in this case is you, Dean, for a couple of days after Castiel touches your soul. Maybe you won't show it — I feel like we did the spell a lot better this time.

The corner of Sam's mouth twitched.

— Dean, did you know that? Cas needs to touch your soul? It's awfully…

— I knew, Sammy, I knew it. It's fine. I'm aware that this is not a massage in a holiday house. — Dean patted his brother on the shoulder with a reassuring grin.

— Dean, you'd better lie down for half an hour or so, — Mattie said solicitously. — I'll make breakfast in the meantime. Do you guys like pancakes?

***

— What about that emotional instability you were talking about? — Dean asked curiously as he finished a third thick pancake and hastily picked up a drop of honey that was trickling down his chin. — Like, you want to destroy everything around you, like some kind of Hulk, and then cry on the chest of... well, someone who is not lucky enough to be around?

Mattie, sitting across from Dean,giggled merrily.  
— If that's how you see it, Dean, it probably will be.

— But don't bother about it," the warlock added calmly. — We used Lucifer's feather for the spell — which is probably why this funny thing happened. Not because Lucifer is a fallen archangel and the progenitor of evil, which is a controversial point in itself. The feather was just very old, from the time even before it fell.

— Yes, how to say it… It's a little out of date, or the storage conditions weren't met, — Mattie recited proudly, which just exactly reminded Cas to the brothers.

— We bought it from an artifact dealer. He didn't even know it was real, or it would have cost a lot more than we paid for it.

At the mention of Lucifer's name, Sam shuddered and took a sip of orange juice so that no one would notice his reaction.

— Well, or you could have... — Dean made an eloquent gesture with a table knife, striking the merchant's imaginary neck, winking at his brother as he did so.

— You can't be serious, Dean! — Sam protested, and Dean was glad to distract him.

Matariel concentrated on trying to repeat Dean's trick with the knife.

— That's interesting, — she noted. — Hardly it's humane, I could have just knocked him out. But we had money.

***

— Ogden, Mattie… If you need anything from us as hunters or anything else, — Dean began as he and Sam said good-bye to the welcoming couple on the porch. The warlock and the angel held hands and smiled warmly at the brothers.

— We have your number, Dean, — Ogden said, shaking the Winchesters' hands in turn.

— I hope you won't have any problems with us. We promise to keep your secret, — Sam promised, and Mattie took a step toward the younger hunter and kissed him on the cheek, standing on tiptoe. Dean got her same kiss, too.

A plump old lady with elaborately curled and arranged snow-white curls was walking slowly along the pavement of the quiet street. When she saw the Winchesters say good-bye to the Greens, she came up to the brothers and greeted them all, saying in a singing, friendly voice:

— Oh, young men, I hope you've signed up for a haircut with our enchantress Mattie? Don't miss this chance! When she touches your hair, all the sores and bad thoughts immediately disappear, I tell you! It feels like heaven...


	4. Chapter 4

The view from the front passenger seat of the Impala was stunning: the maples along the highway running through Central Wisconsin seemed to glow with fiery autumn colors, illuminated by the still bright and warm September sun. With a dreamy smile, sometimes closing his eyes and exposing his face to the oncoming wind that blew in from the open window, sometimes admiring the colorful rampage of color that the surrounding landscape generously shared, Castiel enjoyed the magnificent sight and the bittersweet smell of fallen leaves.

The beauty of this world has always fascinated the angel, and each creation of his Heavenly Father caused him a genuine admiration for the boundless imagination and thoroughness of realization. Take, for example, these orange-red leaves, whizzing past in a whimsical dance, falling softly on the cooling ground and covering it with a soft rustling cover. The perfection of the form, the wisdom of the idea, all resemble each other, and each of them is unique in its own way, not like the other leaves, even those that fall from the same tree. Although the same can be said about the main creation of God, about human — a creation that in its splendor and intricacy was many times greater than any work of the artist who had long left his studio, not forgetting to leave an order to the angels to honor and protect his main creation.

The image of a careless space parent who left this world to its fate, populated by his abandoned children, like a children's room filled with tired toys scattered everywhere, has long ceased to cause the sacred awe and worship of the once loyal soldier who unquestioningly obeyed any order. But the reverence for the glory of creation that God had once proclaimed human to be was the very core that was the foundation of Castiel's very nature, the sacred knowledge and law that he carried in his mind through the millennia of his existence, and also, ironically, the reason why he fell…

In fact, if to think of it, it was also the reason that at this very moment the angel was here, in an old but lovingly maintained car, purring and creaking in the rhythm of the soft music that sounded from the speakers. Castiel's gaze moved slowly to the driver, and a smile touched his lips again, smoothing out the fine wrinkles on them.

— Nice weather, right, Cas? Awesome! — Dean Winchester winked cheerfully at the angel, who was still looking at him, and then turned his gaze back to the road, grinning at the angel's habit of staring like that, as if he didn't know how weird and sometimes funny it looked.

— Yes, Dean, it's very beautiful, — Castiel agreed. — The view from here is amazing.

— Then enjoy it, before we pick Sammy up , because he won't allow anyone to ride shotgun, you know.

— I know, — still watching the sunbeams play in Dean's green eyes, Cas quickly and smoothly raised his hand in front of his face, catching a yellow leaf that suddenly flew into the car cabin before it touched his skin.

— Wow, good reaction! You're like Bruce Lee! — Dean surprised and for figurative comparison mimicked the sound that the famous fighter made in the movies, knocking down another ferocious enemy. However, in the older Winchester's performance, it was a little like the scream of a cat who has been stepped on its tail.

— Be gentle, but not submissive, be firm, but not cruel, — Castiel quoted the dead martial artist, and, opening his fingers, let the maple leaf fall easily to the mercy of the oncoming wind. With a final shake of the head, the leaf disappeared from view with a soft rustle.

— Oh, well, that's... Damn, all right, you win! — Dean clicked his tongue in frustration, unable to think of a suitable responce. — I've got another smartass to be stuck with, — he said mockingly, as Castiel laughed good-naturedly, throwing his head back a little. — Anyway... leaves don't hit back! That's it.

— I'm very pop culture savvy, you know, though it's not my fault, — the angel commented, and decided to change the subject. — Are you and Sam all right? How was the hunt? 

— As you can see, everything is fine. The witch was eliminated without much trouble — witch-killing bullets came in handy. Actually I had a real sweat to do it, but not more than usual. Though we had to split up, and Sam was unlucky, he got a false trail, boring. But he decided to check it out just in case, he is now examining the house where the witch lived. Maybe he will find something useful for our books and artifacts collection in the bunker. So I had to deal with the villain, who slowly took the vital energy from the inhabitants of the town, alone.

— Sorry I was late, Dean. I'm not making excuses, but hitchhiking... as they say... totally sucks. I'm very glad you and Sam are okay.

— Come one, what could go wrong with us? — Dean patted the angel's shoulder encouragingly. — We used to get over far worse mess. Now let's get our team together and go home to celebrate the victory, right, man?

Dean's cell phone rang in the inside pocket of his jacket.

— Speak of the devil, — Dean chuckled, answering the phone. — Hey, Sam, what's up? Did you miss me? We'll be right…

— Dean! — the younger man's voice came from the phone, and it sounded strangely muffled. Sam coughed, and Dean's brows immediately furrowed in alarm. — I 'm trapped! The whole house is on fire, it spread just a couple of seconds after I entered. I'm cut off from the exit… A lot of smoke... I can't see much…

— Sammy! Damn it! Get down, stay close to the floor!

— I'm on the floor, Dean! I'll try to orient myself…

The roar of flames and the crash of collapsing wooden floors were heard the phone. Terrified, Dean was already shouting into the phone, barely looking at the road ahead:

— Sam, hold on! Cas and I are on our way. Don't you dare burn up there, you hear?!!

— I got it, Dean... I'll try... — even louder crack followed Sam's fading voice, and the connection was cut off.

— Sam! Sammy!!!

— Look out, Dean! — Castiel exclaimed, having been listening anxiously to the brothers' conversation all that time.

In fear for his brother's life, Dean did not notice that he was driving into the wrong lane, which was extremely rare for him, because he was a first-class driver. In the last split second, he swerved the steering wheel sharply to the right, barely dodging a speeding jeep whose loud horn cut through the autumn air. The Impala lost its grip on the narrow highway and crashed into a roadside ditch, the engine stalled.

Cas, looking shocked, kept both arms around Dean after he managed to keep him from hitting his head on the steering wheel. Winchester's green eyes, wide with horror, seemed to be fixed on nothing, and his shoulders rose and fell frequently in time with his breathing.

— Dean, are you all right? — the angel asked worriedly, but Dean didn't seem to hear, and Cas had to shake him out of his trance. — Dean!

When Dean came to his senses, he covered his face with his hands and let out a helpless growl.

— Damn, damn, damn!!! Cas, my brother is there, and I can't help him! Of course I'm screwed! — and he jumped out of the car, slamming the door. The angel immediately followed him, quickly going round the hood of the Impala and seeing Dean take his phone again. Sam didn't answer, and Dean violently threw the phone into the grass at his feet.

— You need to calm down, Dean. Please try, and let's see what we can do, — Castiel said, trying his best to support him, even though he knew it was useless, and he only tightened his grip on Dean's tense shoulders.

— We're not gonna make it, Cas... It's already been a twenty-minute drive, and now... — Dean looked up desperately and slapped both hands angrily on the polished body of the stalled Impala. Although... — the voice of the hunter sounded like having hope and frustration at the same time in it. — Oh, son of a bitch, what a jerk I am!

— What? Is anything else wrong, Dean? — the angel's surprised blue eyes met Dean's again, flaming with excitement.

— Look, Cas... Listen to me and don't interrupt, okay? — he said quickly. — It wasn't supposed to be like this, and I'm sorry for that. You're going to help save Sam, aren't you? I have no one else to rely on. Please, just do what I ask. You must touch my soul, remember what you did to Bobby when you needed power? — Dean leaned back against the car door and took a deep breath, bracing himself for the pain ahead.

— Touch your soul? — Cas asked, astonished. — Do you realize how dangerous it is? What are you up to?

— Cas, hurry! Trust me! Sammy's life is a matter of seconds! Please!

Putting his hand to Dean's chest, the angel paused for a moment. He trusted Dean. He had long been ready to follow him anywhere, even to the most damned lair, which he had done when they first met in the grim depths of Hell, when he did not yet know who he was saving or how quickly his life would change. Castiel had pulled Dean Winchester's soul out of the underworld, out of darkness, pain, and madness, into the light of salvation, and into a life that would change the fate of the world. At least that was all he knew then.

But now... now it was different, he had chosen to be with this man, and he would not trade it for any good on Earth or in Heaven, nor would he betray him under any threat. But to hurt him... even knowing at that moment it was really necessary, even when Dean was begging for it — it was excruciating for him...

— Come on, Cas! I know you'll be careful, but faster!

After a moment's hesitation, Cas grabbed Dean's shoulder with his left hand and pressed it even harder against the side of the car. Neither Dean nor most people had any idea of the power that lay hidden beneath the fragile physical shell of every human being, but Castiel knew this firsthand and clearly understood how fatal the slightest mistake could be. If Dean had twitched at the wrong moment, or the angel's hand had wavered, they would both have been instantly sprayed into atoms by the tremendous energy that was the human soul.

— I really hope you know what you're doing, Dean…

Focusing all his attention on his right hand, directing his grace to the tips of his fingers, Castiel touched Dean's clothing first, and the fabric parted almost imperceptibly. Then the warm, slightly damp skin and taut muscles beneath it gave way, and Dean groaned through his clenched teeth. Bright white light spilled out from under the angel's fingers, and Cas could hear the layers of flesh and energy parting with a ringing sound like a scream to let him pass. It was necessary to penetrate deeper not only into the physical body of Dean, but also into the layers of finer, ethereal matter that protect the innermost essence of human nature. Cas carefully sank his hand almost to the middle of his palm, while Dean breathed quickly and shallowly through his open mouth, doing his best not to move. His perspiring face, tilted up to the sky, expressed such an inhuman agony and struggle not to allow himself to try to dodge the pain that Castiel had to close his eyes as he couldn't stand the sight. But he could still hear Dean's scream, and he focused all his will to continue. It wouldn't be long before he could do what Dean had asked of him. Another inch deep into Dean's chest and only one layer of vibrating subtle energy, and the angel's grace will touch the quintessence of this perfect human being, defenseless now in his trust, open to him completely and unconditionally, for whatever it is necessary, no matter how much pain it takes to endure... Just another torturous moment…

The angel's fingers overcame the last resistance and sank into the center of colossal power and at the same time majestic and serene peace. All other sounds had died away, and only the enveloping silence seemed to cradle Castiel in a soft embrace. The hot light penetrated every part of his body, filling him with bliss.

— Cas? — he heard Dean's voice, or rather, not a sound, but a thought that came to him without breaking the magical silence as if out of time and space. — Are you here? I can feel you... but I can't see you…

— It's me, Dean, — Castiel hastened to answer, also mentally, carefully following Dean's voice with his grace. — Are you... are you okay?"

— I'm okay, Cas. It doesn't even hurt, can you imagine it… I'm here…

And Cas felt Dean make another small movement toward Him. The soul of a man and the grace of an angel merged for a brief moment, as if a storm wave had thundered on a rocky shore in splatter and foam... and then separated again, rapidly receding from each other, falling into the darkness of the depths of their vessels.

When Castiel was fully aware of himself again, he realized that he and Dean were sitting on the ground opposite each other. Dean squeezed Cas' hand to his chest, eyes shut tight. The angel felt a strong heat and tingling in his back, which spread further back and up, over his shoulders and wings… The wings that had long since been burned to ashes, the pitiful remnants of which only served to remind him of how, a few years ago, through his own recklessness and trustfulness, he, like all other angels, had lost his wings, as well as the ability to move instantly through time and space. How many times had he cursed his own stupidity and worthlessness, imagining how he could solve so many important problems if he had wings…

Such as the ones now, at that very moment, turned around behind him, sparkling with blue lights of spreading grace. Huge and beautiful in their primordial power, these wings were even better and stronger than those he had before the fall, and not even a single battle scar remained on them. Startled, Castiel moved first one wing, then the other, and the sunlight shimmered on the glossy black and bluish feathers.

— We did it, Cas,— came Dean's voice, hoarse with fatigue. — They are so cool ... your wings are just a fly...

— Dean! What have you done, Dean?! — the dazed angel took the Winchester by his shoulders and tried to look Into his eyes, but Dean's distracted gaze was directed behind him.

— I fixed your wings, Cas, — Dean said with a satisfied smile, which seemed drunken . — I can see them, and I think they're pretty..."

— You see my wings? Dean, what does all this mean?..

Finally, Dean managed to focus on the angel's face, and he looked directly into Cas's eyes. The hunter's pupils were unnaturally dilated, and his tongue was slurred.

— I'll explain, Cas. When you get back. You... You can save Sam now, can't you? Please help him. And forgive me…

Still reeling from the shock, Castiel had no idea what kind of forgiveness Dean was talking about, but remembering that Sam was in danger, he quickly pulled himself together.

— Sure, Dean. I'm going after Sam, everything's going to be fine, — he said in a firm voice and stood up, taking a step back.

Quickly scanning the further direction they were traveling with Dean with his angelic powers, Castiel found a single burning house a few miles to the west. Before the jump, he waved his wings once more, as if checking their reality, and with a confident nod to Dean, who was still sitting on the ground, he moved with lightning speed into the burning wooden building.

Hot flames roared and raged around, devouring the fragile walls, beams, and ceilings like a hungry predator that has reached its desired prey. The angel focused, searching for Sam in this fiery chaos. He felt that from somewhere nearby — a tangle of pain, fear, and the persistent thirst for life of the strong-willed and stubborn Winchester led him like a bright beacon light. The angel was about to rush to the corner of the house to help the hunter, when he suddenly felt another presence behind him — not even a thought or a personality, but rather a lump of initial anger and aggression, embodied in a creature that he saw and recognized immediately when he turned to have a look it, just in time to avoid the swift attack. A ball of fire, burning somewhere at the level of his face, darted toward him with a menacing hiss. Dodging, Castiel stretched out his hand toward the red-hot sphere that had flown by inertia for some distance, apparently preparing for another throw, and did not allow it to move again.

"Heat can be overcome by cold," — thought the angel, and still holding the fireball at a distance, he began to lower its temperature, bringing it to cosmic cold. His calculation was correct, the creature was trying to free itself from his invisible grip, but its glow gradually faded until it was completely extinguished, and only a cloud of black ash fell on the burning floor boards.

The fire was still burning, and Cas had to hurry if he wanted to save Sam. He was alive, the angel knew it, though the eyes of his vessel did not yet see it. Castiel raised his hands, quieting the raging fire that continued to consume the charred walls and spread like an eerie, humming carpet across the ceiling. Under the influence of angelic grace, the fire quickly weakened and soon lost its position. Only in some places there were the fading flames of what had once seemed invincible fire still dancing.

— Sam! — Cas called. No sound came from the corner of the burned-out room where Sam was buried under the collapsed ceiling. With a wave of his hand, Cas threw the still-smoking logs aside without touching them, bending over the senseless body. Sam was still breathing, but very faintly, and his clothes were charred and smoking. Half of his face was badly burned, his left leg was broken and crushed by a heavy beam that had fallen on it.

Cas winced at the thought of the pain Sam would have felt if he'd been conscious. Taking the lanky hunter in his arms as gently as if he were a child, he leaped back to the highway, where the Impala was stuck in the ditch, and Dean, still a bit unhinged, was waiting. Cas didn't see the remains of the building that had been destroyed by the fire collapse in a few seconds, with a loud hoot and a scattering of ash clouds.


	5. Chapter 5

Returning to the highway with Sam slacked in his arms, Castiel decided that Dean shouldn't see his brother in such a terrible state — bloodied, covered with terrible burns and with a broken leg. So when he appeared next to the Impala left by the road, he deliberately turned his back on the older Winchester, covering Sam with his body and gently lowering him to the ground, covered with fragrant fallen leaves. Carefully, he lifted Sam's head, holding the back of his head and examining the burns. In the light of day, the picture was even worse than in the flickering light of the fire.

— Hey, Cas... How's he doing? — Dean's voice came unsteadily. — Is he alive?

— Yes, Dean, Sam is okay, — Castiel said, almost not lying. He had learned long ago that no matter how bad a lie is, sometimes it is appropriate and useful if you want to protect someone from unnecessary and unwanted experiences. Dean was so attached to his brother, and had cared for him so much all his life, that it would be cruel and inhumane to make him watch Sam suffer when it can be avoided. Just one light touch of the hand on the burned forehead, one breath of grace spreading over the mutilated body, and it healed the melted skin, the blinded eyes, the shattered bones were joined, the burned hair grew back…

A familiar hand fell heavily on the angel's shoulder. Dean, coming up behind him, looked anxiously at his brother, who was about to open his eyes. His face, stained with soot, frowned painfully. Sam sighed noisily and instinctively covered his face with his hands, for the first thing he remembered when he came to himself was the roaring, devouring fire and the burning building falling on him. Staggering back, he looked around hastily, trying to shake off the already nonexistent flames.

— Hey, whoa, Sammy, it's okay! Sam, look at me! — Dean grabbed his brother by the shoulders and turned him to look in his face. — Hey, we got you, Cas saved you!

— Phew, damn! I thought I was dead, — Sam uttered, trying to catch his breath. — Thank you, Cas! If it wasn't for you... There was something... something that set the house on fire in a matter of seconds before I even noticed!

— It was a fire elemental, an ancient natural spirit, — Castiel explained as he slapped the smoldering fabric of his trenchcoat with his palm. — You must have let it out when you came in. I think your witch has it locked up as an insurance in case of a break-in.

— Maybe. Something did crack when I stepped on one of the floorboards near the entrance…

Without waiting for his brother to finish his story, Dean threw his arms around both him and Cas, burying his face in their shoulders.

— You smudgy devils! — he mumbled through the folds of their smoke-smelling clothing. — Son of a bitch, I'm so glad you're alright… I nearly had kittens while you were there, flittering…

Dean felt a wave of heat hit his face and his throat tightened. Tears welled up in his eyes, and he couldn't hold them back as he buried his face deeper into the arms of Cas and Sam. His shoulders were trembling and shaking with sobs, and he was looking for support from the only ones who were really close to him, not recognizing himself in the weeping bundle of feelings that he had suddenly become.

— Dean, you've had a heart to do it at last, — Sam whispered in his ear with a smile, understanding what had happened. — You're dumb truck! It was worth me getting into trouble for, wasn't it?

— You... smoked dumbass! — Dean slapped him jokingly, also smiling through his tears and wiping his wet face with his sleeve. — Screw you, it's bullshit!"

— Dean, something seems to be wrong with you, — Castiel said worriedly. — How are you feeling? — he gently touched Dean's face with his hands and looked at it closely.

— Dean, what about the Impala? — Sam suddenly asked with a slightly nervous grin, looking back at the gleaming body of the family car. — You didn't break it, did you? — with that, he got to his feet, dusted off his soot-covered clothes, and turned to the car.

— Hey, be careful with Baby, okay? — the older hunter reached for his brother as he headed to the Impala, but Castiel firmly took Dean's chin, turning his face toward him. Without seeming to notice, Sam slid into the driver's seat and closed the door behind him.

— Dean... — the angel's blue eyes pierced the Winchester almost tangibly, and Dean flinched as he met them. — What did you do? How did you manage…

— Cas, it was supposed to be a present, — Dean interrupted hastily, — for your birthday. Remember when you said it was like in autumn? Well... I found a spell, it was... difficult... and long... but I found it. I thought the three of us were going to pile into the bunker and I was going to give it to you. I thought it would be safer there, because you see what a mess I am now… But it's okay, it's the way it should be, — Dean said slowly, haltingly, but the happy smile didn't left his lips, — so I'm sorry again that it didn't work out the way I planned, but it did…

— Wow, Dean! Are you sure this spell is safe? You clearly have a change of consciousness!

— Oh, that's nothing. Don't worry, I'm fine. And Sam is. And... — Dean leaned forward, and his hands came to rest on Cas' shoulders, — and now you, too. Happy birthday, Cas…

He pulled Castiel gently to himself, and his hot, wet lips pressed gently against the angel's dry, slightly parted lips. At first, the Cas froze in surprise, stopped breathing for a moment, and did not know what to do. He had no desire to push Dean away, on the contrary, the warm touch was pleasant and unexpectedly desired, and Castiel moved closer, placing his hands on Dean's chest under the rough fabric of his jacket. He wanted to the kiss him back, and he carefully tried to imitate Dean's movements, quiveringly caressing his lips with his own and feeling the blood rush to his face.

Dean kissed him slowly, as if afraid to frighten or offend him, as a treasure, cherishing every millimeter that the angel came close to him, gently touching his thick, disheveled hair, inhaling the fresh, spicy smell of his skin, mixed with the smell of smoke, and enjoying the response of desire with which the angel's lips slid over his, making Dean forget himself in that sensual sweetness and leaving no doubt about the reciprocity. Dean pulled back slightly and closed his eyes, leaning his hot forehead against Cas', breaking the kiss to take a breath.

— Oh, Dean... I... — Castiel's hot whisper touched the hunter's face, and Dean slightly touched the angel's lips with his index finger.

— Wait, okay? — and Dean continued to kiss him again, not wanting to stop this overwhelming joy, as if they had suddenly found each other again, but in a different way, so close, so intimate and natural, as if it could not be otherwise…

Castiel suddenly shuddered in Winchester's arms and squeezed the fabric of his shirt sharply. Recoiling, he met Dean's confused gaze, and pushed him away as if suddenly remembering something terrible.

— Dean! — a mixture of regret and fear was the angel's eyes. — Dean, I can't. Thank you... for the present, — Castiel lowered his eyes to avoid seeing Dean's embarrassed face. — But... I should go. Sorry.

Before Dean could even reach out to stop the fleeing Cas, he was gone. Using for this purpose the very wings that he had just got back. Leaving behind a swarm of maple leaves flying into the air and a bewildered Winchester, who was dumbfounded, absolutely not understanding what had just happened. It was all so beautiful — Cas' wings, coming so close to him, that he could see, even vaguely, and that at first shy, but then such tender, pure and perfect a kiss. What happened?

The hunter's shoulders slumped devastatedly, and his gaze wandered over the ground where his angel had stood before him a moment ago. He didn't even react immediately to Sam's words, who was shaking him excitedly by the shoulder.

— Dean, where did Cas go? I couldn't get the Impala started, so I thought maybe he could take us straight to the bunker now that he had wings. Did he fly to practice?

— Maybe... — Dean staggered to his feet, and his brother hastily took his arm. — Or, more likely, I screwed it up…

— What are you talking about? — Sam frowned, not sure what was meant Dean, who looked as if he was seriously boozed up. — Are you drunk? When did you manage?

— No, — said the older one, as they approached the Impala, — it was the spell that did it to me. Feels like Bobby's tangle-leg... Let's go get Baby out.

— Alright, let's go. But you can't drive like this, don't even think about it!

After the Winchesters managed to stop an elderly couple driving along the highway with a winch and use it to pull the Impala on the road, the brothers thanked the benevolent people, said goodbye, and they drove off in their not new, but clean and well-groomed pickup truck. Or rather, it was mostly Sam who spoke to them, while Dean walked sullenly up and down the roadside and waved them off silently. He was in no hurry to speak also when he opened the hood of the stalled car and plunged his hands into its greasy interior, only occasionally scowling snorting. Sam watched his brother with folded arms, and after a few minutes, the silence became too heavy for him.

— Dean, what's up with you and Cas? Why did he leave?

An exasperated sigh was Dean's reply, and again there was silence in the autumn air.

— We should have accepted their offer to tow us to the nearest auto repair shop. Dean...?

This time Sam was rewarded with a heavy scowl from his brother and an oil-soaked rag unceremoniously handed to him, which hit him directly in the chest.

— You'd better get behind the wheel, Sammy, and try to start the engine.

With a puzzled twist of the mouth and a shrug of the shoulders, the younger brother carefully picked up the rag with two fingers, walked around the hood and got into the driver's seat, first throwing the filthy piece of cloth into the glove box. The Impala responded to the turn of the ignition key with the same stern silence that its owner had recently maintained. After the first attempt, Dean continued to work on the engine, hidden from his brother by the raised hood that glistened in the sun.

— Well, let's try again, — came his booming voice from behind the hood a couple of minutes later, but the second attempt to get Baby started wasn't a success either. The older brother's silhouette appeared at Sam's side, the door opened, and Dean leaned over to take the key. Sam was about to get up and give him his legitimate seat.

— You just sit down, — Dean growled out.

As if listening to something carefully and looking like a safe-cracker, he turned the key slowly and intently, then again, and the engine miraculously started.

— That's it, Sammy, — and the younger Winchester got a good slap on the shoulder. — watch and learn. I'm the repair shop, huh, — slumping heavily into the passenger seat, Dean added, — well, let's go, Schumacher. My hands are still shaking.

For a few dozen miles on the way home to the Men of Letters' bunker, Dean didn't say a word, because he dozed off without noticing it. He woke up when Sam slowed down on a turn, causing Dean to nid-nod.

— I kissed Cas! — he lined out, opening his eyes and still not quite sure where he was.

— Wow, this is a great dream! — Sam raised his eyebrows and grinned.

— Damn no, — he ran his hand down his face and looked it. It was barely shaking anymore. — I mean, I really did... Come on, as if you weren't peeping!

— Mmm... Actually, no, but should I've? Okay, never mind. Is that why he left? What, he didn't like it?

— Dammit, Sam! I can tell if someone likes my kisses or not! — Dean's voice was still hoarse from sleep, and he cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. — That's not the point...

— What is it then? 

— If I only knew. Cas was gone before I could ask him what was wrong. And I have no idea what happened or what to do now. Son of a bitch! — the older Winchester fall silent again, frowning and staring out the window, and Sam cautiously decided not to disturb him until they reached the bunker.

***

Castiel was restless, and it is absolutely literally. His new wings now allowed him to travel freely to any place on the planet, and he darted around the world in desperation, searching for a place that would help him calm down and compose his thoughts. The sands of Egypt, the ice of Antarctica, the Amazon jungle, then an uninhabited island in the Pacific ocean, and even the bottom of one of the cold Northern seas did not produce the desired effect. And in the end, the tired angel landed somewhere in the Sacramento mountains. Not far from Kansas, where the Winchesters' bunker was located, by the standards of the now-again winged sky warrior. Perhaps that was why Cas decided to stop here, on a high, rocky plateau, being in a state of confusion that was completely out of character for his fellow angels. The angels were not subject to the feelings and emotions that Castiel, who had once fallen for one of God's wonderful creatures, had taken over from people.

So, Dean. The man whom he had once saved on the order of higher angelic ranks, pulled him out of the depths of Hell, risking his own life and losing many of his combat comrades in a furious bloody battle, the purpose of which was just one — to free the Righteous Man, who was supposed to be a perfect vessel for Michael in the upcoming battle of the Apocalypse. Even then, this man impressed him with his will, perseverance and desire to save this mortal world destined to become the arena for the final battle.

He took a few steps on the table-level, stony surface, then came to the edge and sat down on the edge of the plateau, his legs dangling just over the edge of the precipice. He had never been afraid of heights, and now Dean's gift would have kept his vessel intact, even if the rock beneath it had collapsed, like a few small stones that had fallen when Cas moved to make himself comfortable.Their pounding continued to reach his ears for a long time, fading and tailing off somewhere far below. Running his fingers through his hair tousled by the harsh mountain wind, Castiel looked out over the abyss before him, the rocks with a few stunted trees around them, the bright cloudless blue sky, and finding no answer in the silent beauty of nature, he closed his eyes and looked where he should have started. Only now, having given way to his despair and exhausted his strength, did he decide to be alone with his thoughts.

As Castiel looked curiously at this self-willed, stubborn, and foolhardy hunter, willing to make tremendous efforts to save the life of every person whose life depended on him in the least, and to make even more terrible sacrifices for the sake of his loved ones, as Cas spent more and more time with him, he did not immediately notice how the ideas of free will and independence entered his mind along with a sense of deep admiration and affection. As time passed, it became something even more powerful, exciting, inescapable, and then unknown to him. Maybe it was because Cas didn't immediately understand right then what was happening to him that he allowed the sprig of this unknown, fluttering sensation to flow through his mind, through the many layers that had formed from following strict rules, obeying unquestioning orders, and the smooth flow of his clearly defined angelic life. Probably, without knowing it, he had been infected with disobedience just when he first touched Dean's soul buried in the depths of Hell, leaving his mark that bound their destinies forever, and not noticing how this suffering and rushing soul in search of deliverance left its invisible mark on him.

Love... When the angel who dared to defy Heaven finally realized what was happening to him, it was too late to retreat. He tried to overcome this such a human feeling, unseemly to soldier of God, that made him vulnerable, leaving and pushing Dean away more than once, but coming back again. The weak sprout took strong roots, grew a dense crown, and blossomed into a magnificent flower.

And Cas gave up. Let that intoxicating passion make him do things that he would not have thought of before meeting this man, let Dean often be harsh and rude, forcing him to suffer in silence and swallow his pride, and let his feeling remain unrequited. But if he could be near Dean, just see his smile, listen to his not always clear jokes, and look into his sparkling emerald eyes, he was sure it would be worth it. He had almost come to terms with the fact that Dean would not realize or accept his love, though faint sparks of hope still occasionally flickered in his thoughts when their eyes met and held each other's for a long time. At that time, it seemed to him that at any moment Dean would understand, and hug him, and tell him what idiots they had been all those years for not daring to admit what they felt for each other. But seconds flew by, and for some reason each time the moment was lost. And it seemed to Castiel that he had invented this false hope for himself, so as not to lose his mind and go crazy.

And now this kiss had happened... What did it mean? That Cas had been right all these years, and that Dean, like himself, had not dared to open up, hiding behind the mask of a stern and impenetrable daredevil hunter who had no time for... "chick-flick moments"? Or was it just that Dean was under the influence of the side effect of the spell that had given Cas real wings again, as an angel should have? What if he was just intoxicated and not responsible for his actions? And when he comes to his usual state of mind, will he want to forget what he did? Or will he really forget it, and this moment will disappear from his memory, like after a huge binge?

However, Castiel was never a coward, and the fear of being rejected was not the only reason he left the Winchesters stranded on the highway in such a hurry. He didn't even move the Impala onto the road, which would have saved the brothers the trouble of using human resources. There was something else... If his love is really mutual, and he returns and finds out about it, then there will not be an angel in this world happier than him. Because first of all, it is not typical for angels to be happy simply because of their nature, which involved only service and no human stupid things, and secondly... it could cost Castiel his life. What would happen to Dean when he knew he might be the cause of Cas' death, even not directly?

He opened his eyes, which he didn't need to squint at the bright sun that struck them, and the blue of the distant sky was reflected in them, rivaling them in brightness of color. No, he will not sit in the mountains waiting for manna from Heaven. After all, uncertainty and unbearable suspense can be worse than death, and he was convinced that was just such a case. Dean had given him wings and didn't deserve to be abandoned without explanation for some reason he didn't know. Castiel would come back and tell him everything, and then together they would decide what to do with their feelings and that fateful deal.

The angel rose to his full height, spread his magnificent blue-black wings that glittered in the sun, and stepped resolutely into the sky.


	6. Chapter 6

Castiel shifted nervously from one foot to the other as he stood in front of the door to Dean's room. A few minutes earlier, he had called Sam and learned that the elder Winchester had hardly left his room for two days and was not looking for cases to solve either. All that time, silent, he listened to music for hours on end and occasionally showed up in the kitchen to grab a couple of bottles of beer. After that, the angel received a clear recommendation to appear in the bunker, because this state of affairs did not appeal to Sam too well. Dean stubbornly refused to talk to his brother, sometimes joking morosely, sometimes silently giving him a look that was only heavier than his surly sighs when he went back up the stairs and closed the door to his bedroom.

After waiting a few more long seconds, the angel finally knocked on the door, gently but decisively. A low indistinct noise and a hasty reply from Dean came from the room:

— Yes, it's open!

The hunter was standing next to his bed, furtively brushing off an old pair of home jeans on his knees. A fleeting, embarrassed smile flickered and faded on his tired face.

— Hello, Dean, — Castiel said, closing the door behind him, and Dean's smile returned.

— Hey, Cas! — the Winchester ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the blond crew cut even more. — You... come in, don't stand in the doorway.

The angel approached him, gazing intently into his emerald eyes, noticing dark circles beneath them.

— Dean, I have to apologize, — he began, deciding not to beat around the bush. — I heard your prayers. I should have come back earlier, because you called me. I'm sorry I left you then.  
— It's okay, Cas, — Dean looked away and sat down on the floor, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning back against the edge of the bed. — I know you, you wouldn't have disappeared just for no reason. Am I right?

— Yes, you are, — Castiel sat down next to him and folded his hands on his bent knees. — Sam said you were upset. Is that still the effect of the spell?

— No, no, — Dean grinned, shaking his head negatively. — I'm absolutely fine. We're cool! You did a pretty good job killing that... whatchamacallit... elemental.

— To be honest, I wasn't sure how to handle it, but I figured cold would work against fire. And so it turned out right.

— So you just hit it at random, like, played hunch? Sam and I had to improvise on the spot more than once. You're a real hunter!

— I guess so,— the angel agreed, after Dean had given him a childish slap on the shoulder. — But that's not what you wanted to talk about, is it? If I understand correctly…

— Oh, yeah. I mean... more than about that. Dammit, no, not about that at all.

They both stopped abruptly, not looking at each other. The sudden silence was broken only by the faint rustle of music coming faintly from the large wireless headphones that Dean had left on the rumpled bedspread. Castiel was about to snap his fingers to stop the annoying sound when Dean reached back, grabbed the headphones, turned off the music, and threw them back without looking at them, and they were lucky to fall on a soft surface.

— Cas, look... — he said in a hushed voice, — maybe this is just my thought, but if... if that kiss offended you, if it made you feel, you know... uncomfortable, I'm ready to apologize, and we'll try to forget that stupid incident, — looking up for a moment, Dean made sure that the angel was listening carefully, and hurriedly continued: — I don't want to ruin our relationship, so... I'm sorry. I should've kept my temper, but this Enochian magic made me act like a jumpy wasted schoolgirl! I'm... very ashamed of my behavior. I promise, Cas, I swear it won't happen...

— Dean! — the angel interrupted his discursive tirade, squeezing his forearm soothingly. — Wait, let me say something.

Taking a deep breath after his monologue, the hunter nodded quietly, looking down again at the angel's long fingers wrapped around his arm.

— Dean, even if you kissed me under the influence of the magic side effect, — Cas began, his voice quivering with excitement, — I wouldn't have a right to be offended. After all, you gave me new wings — something I couldn't even dream of. So if you're sure you made a mistake and you feel nothing but shame, we'll forget it as a minor incident and never think about it again. Over time, the awkwardness will ease, and everything will be the same between us. 

— Really? — Dean chuckled bitterly. — I would ask you to erase my memory of that moment, but that would be completely selfish. And you won't forget it yourself.

— I won't. But I can really do it for you if you want, — the angel promised quietly. His hand slowly slid off Dean's arm, and again silence fell upon the room again.

— Well... — the Winchester, as usual, gave Cas a little nudge as a sign of encouragement, but remained leaning against his warm shoulder. Several minutes passed quietly, filled with an unspeakable sadness and disappointment that they both felt, not feeling brave enough to admit it to themselves or to each other.

When at last their eyes met again, Castiel smoothly reached out to touch the hunter's forehead. In a few moments, he would rid Dean of the memory that was bothering him so much, and everything would be back to normal. Angel felt his eyes grow hot and a hard lump rise in his throat, but he swallowed hard and pulled himself together, fighting off the feelings that were irrelevant. Maybe it's for the better...

— No! — Dean suddenly cried out, catching Castiel's wrist, who gave a start of surprise. — No. Like hell I want to forget it.

Dean's fingers closed on the lapels of Castiel's trenchcoat, and he turned the angel to face him. Putting aside his doubts, he pressed his lips to Cas', and the passion restrained up to that moment covered them both in a deafening wave, washing away all the barriers, half-truths, and the unspoken, as if the ocean tide was washing away small particles from the shore. They kissed each other wildly and ecstatically, forgetting themselves in the close, frenzied embrace and not noticing the salty taste of tears on their lips — the tears of relief that they no longer had to hide and fear losing each other because of non-reciprocity of their feelings.

Pulling back slightly, Dean put his hot hands on the angel's shoulders and stared into his brilliant eyes, sparkling like precious sapphires. With a slight smile, Cas gently stroked the short, soft hair at the back of the hunter's head, and that smile seemed both happy and sad to Dean.

— Cas, — the Winchester said softly, and his warm breath touched the angel's moist lips lightly, as if still caressing them, — I thought... It seemed to me you were... that you were...

Unable to find the right words, as he often did when he needed to express his feelings, Dean paused and lowered his eyes, and then Castiel spoke:

— I have to tell you this, Dean. I want you to know. You appeared in my life not by my will, out of the the blue, like a natural disaster, and turned the entire usual order of things in my world upside down. Because of you, I gave up everything that was dear to me, everything that I believed in and followed implicitly. Because of you, I've changed and become who I am now. Although it was often hard, scary and bitter, and sometimes I doubted that I made the right choice to leave my past for you, I always came back and will come back no matter what happens. I love you, Dean.

Closing his eyes, Dean took a deep breath and held it as if he were about to jump into the water, trying to believe what the angel had just said and to grasp the reality of what was happening between them. As he exhaled slowly, he was vaguely annoyed to think that it was he who should have told Cas that he loved him first, that he was the Dean Winchester, the fearless, valiant hunter. The most gorgeous femme fatales and the most terrifying monsters trembled before him. But for some reason at the moment he seemed to have forgotten all the words and felt like a helpless baby. Though it didn't matter, he'd tell him as soon as he could...

A light, almost weightless kiss which touched his lips made him open his eyes. Castiel's face was so close, his hands fondling Dean's strong shoulders. There was something in the expression of the angel's eyes that didn't match his words. This look was filled with infinite love, but there was something else in it. Doubt? Sadness?..

— Before you say anything in response, Dean, there's something else you should know, —Castiel's tone became serious, and Dean frowned, knowing that he was about to hear something that was unlikely to please him. — When we raised Jack from the dead… Remember when I went to Heaven to get him back?

— Sure, Cas. What happened there?

— There I met... a creature I had met before, and…

— Dammit, Cas! What have you done? — Dean jumped up in despair and flounced about his room like a trapped animal. — Well, why didn't you tell me earlier? Why ... why didn't Jack tell?

— I asked him not to tell, Dean. We've had so many tough events already. I just didn't want you and Sam to worry also about me.

Dean stopped pacing the floor, leaned against the heavy chest of drawers, and ran his fingers through his hair like he used to, tugging at the tousled strands insanely.

— Come on, we wouldn't have fallen apart if we worried! Maybe we'd have found a way out by now! Cas, I asked you so many times not to be silent if you're going to do something... like this!

— Dean, look, — the angel said forthright. — I didn't have time to consult — I had to decide something at once, or we would've lost Jack. I'm sorry I didn't tell you right away. I didn't want to upset you, and I don't want to upset you now. But I don't regret what I did, and I'm sure you or Sam would've done the same.

Unable to find words to answer, Dean dropped his hands to his sides helplessly and stared at the floor. Indeed, Cas got him there — he really loved Jack as if he were his own son, although he had not immediately come to this when the nephilim appeared in their lives. Now this naive kid with Superman's powers was their family, and everyone of them was ready to sacrifice for his sake. Suddenly, a question that Dean had been thinking about for most of the time since he'd managed the spell that restored Castiel's wings interrupted his thoughts about Jack. A vague assumption started to become clearer.

— Cas, why did you leave? Did you…

The angel moved fluently to within a few inches, and Dean's personal space quivered under his gentle pressure, not for the first time making the Winchester shudder slightly with pleasure.

— Your kiss, Dean, made me feel so happy that I thought the Shadow would've come for me right then and there. So I decided it would be safer for all of us if I moved and met it one-on-one.

— You think I'd just have given you up to it that easily? — Dean asked with a dark frown, unsuccessfully trying to shake off the feeling of deja vu. Something like that had actually happened in the past, when they were in Purgatory together, and now it was happening again.

— That's what I was afraid of, — with a soft smile, Castiel laid a hand on the hunter's tense shoulder. — Humans can't defeat a cosmic entity that is older than the Universe itself.

— I wouldn't say that for sure! Remember, we've dealt with guys not much weaker than this one of yours? The Shadow, or whatever it is, — the Winchester objected, not without a certain amount of self-satisfaction. — You're still here, aren't you? Look, you're walking and talking, and also arguing — everything is as it should be. And it just can't help but please! Come here.

— I'm... not arguing, — Cas tried to explain as Dean took both of his hands and led him to his wide bed.

— Good for you, sit down then, — Dean sat on the edge of the bed himself, half-turned, and the angel had no choice but to follow his example and sit down next to him. — So you said you met the Shadow in the Empty when...

— When I died, yes, — the angel prompted. It was easier for him than for humans to speak words related to death, which people often didn't dare to utter. — The Shadow is a being that owns and controls the Empty. Everyone who gets there sleeps forever, just like the Shadow itself.

— And you woke it up when Jack woke you up with his call, right? — Dean winced, imagining his own feelings when he had to wake up suddenly. — I'd be mad, too, and I'd pick a bone with you if I were it. If the Shadow has bones, of course.

— Yes, it got very angry, Dean. That's why I offered myself instead of Jack. I thought it would be more willing to get even with me for ruining its sleep than to drag away a nephilim it didn't even know before.

Dean pondered for a moment, putting his arm around the angel's shoulders. He frowned, then squinted and bit his lip, silently calculating something in his mind. Castiel was about to say something when the hunter asked in a low his voice:

— Cas, did you really… Did you leave because you thought you'd be happy if we were together? And then the Shadow would get you, right?

And when Cas nodded silently, Dean threw both arms around him, pressing his cheek against Cas'.

— But you're back now, you're with me, see? And there's no angry cosmic entity here! That's what I think, — Dean whispered fervently, stroking the thick dark hair of the angel, who leaned his head on his shoulder, listening to his excited whisper. — The Shadow just doesn't know you at all. It doesn't know us, because you are one of us, you are our family. Happiness will never be available to people like us. There will always be something that will prevent you from approaching it. We're together, Cas, and it's... it's so beautiful, it's breathtaking, and it's going to be even better, I promise! Now it's just going to be awesome, you know? But ... Look at me, Cas! Do you get the idea?

Castiel looked up and tilted his head to one side in a familiar motion.

— I think I do, Dean, I get the idea. So, if take this moment… I feel so good with you now, but I've been worried about Jack since we got him back. The magic we used to do that must have a price, and it can be quite high.

— Right, that's what I mean, right! — Dean continued, his eyes bright with emotion. — I'll tell you I'm worried about the kid too! And take your home, Heaven — it's a damn mess now, too, isn't it?

— Yes, it's possible to say so, — Cas agreed gloomily. — There are very few Angels left, and Heaven are held, not even "on a wing and a prayer". It's terrible to imagine what might happen if their power runs out and Heaven just collapses. Billions of lost souls will be scattered across the Earth…

— The Shadow won't get you, — Dean said, bringing his lips closer to Cas', catching his response with his half-closed eyes. — You're a Winchester, and our purpose in this world is to save people, not to chill and relax on our hunting laurels… It attacked the wrong guy.  
This time their kiss was passionate and deep, unrestrained by any fears, free and quickly inflaming an inescapable desire. Dean's tongue slid wetly along the angel's lips and sank inside gently but surely. Castiel's breath quickened, and he drew back a little, breaking the kiss. A vague smile played on his wet lips as he met Dean's bleary gaze.

— Are you alright, Cas? Should we slow down? — the Winchester worried. The blush appeared on his freckled cheeks gave up his arousal.

— I don't want to slow down, — he heard Castiel's throaty voice in reply. — It's not what I waited so long. I want you, Dean Winchester, I want you now, — and his fingers gripped the collar of Dean's shirt firmly, pulling him back to himself unhesitatingly. In an instant, his strong hands turned Dean on his back, gently but insistently laid him on the bed, and the angel was suddenly on top of him, straddling the hunter's thighs. 

The wireless headphones that had been tossed carelessly on the bedspread earlier slid to the floor unnoticed.


	7. Chapter 7

— Your wings… I can see them again, Cas! They are so... luxurious!

Dean was pinned to his own bed by Castiel's weight. He settled on the Winchester's thighs with an intent that left no doubt. In the dim light of the desk lamp, Dean's eyes, momentarily out of focus, caught a wavering haze around the fugure of castiel, bending over him with awe and a growing desire in his glittering eyes.

— Thank you for the compliment. I already told you, Dean — we have a very deep connection, — Cas said in a low voice, almost a whisper. — Now you are a part of me, so you can see them. And I... I can feel what you feel... especially when you're so close.

— Wow! I wish I had angelic powers to help me feel you! — Dean said admiringly. He tried to keep his gaze on Castiel's majestic wings, but he was not used to focusing on them for long.

— It's not just my angelic powers that help me do this, — Cas laughed, raising his left brow and looking pointedly down to where Dean's erecting cock was getting harder and harder against his crotch. — Human touch is a feeling also available to my vessel. But my grace vibrates and exults because it feels you desire me.

Dean's lips twitched in a sly smile. The angel's words made his head spin even more, and those unspeakably blue eyes lured him like an ocean beckoning to plunge into its bottomless depths. Dean's hands slid over the angel's knees and began to rise higher, growing bolder with every inch they crossed, and his right hand gently touched the swelling bulge under the fly of Cas' trousers.

— If we're really going to do this, Cas, — the hunter tried to control the surge of passion, afraid to push his lover away with too much force.

— We're going to have sex, am I right? — Castiel continued, surprising Dean once again with his unique directness and making him blush.

— Oh, damn yes! — Dean blurted out exitedly, hoping to hide his embarrassment. What was happening? Why is he, so brave and relaxed with girls, even with strangers, now suddenly hesitated and turned red in his face, like some immature virgin? He would think about it, but not at the moment, when it was high time to rip that unchangable carelessly unbuttoned trenchcoat off the angel's shoulders, followed by the stiff black jacket, the blue tie that emphasized Cas' eyes so favorably, but completely unnecessary then, and get to the snow-white shirt, hastily undoing the unruly buttons…

Tangled in the multiple layers of Castiel's clothing, Dean continued to kiss Castiel's tender pink lips, reveling in their softness and warmth. Cas helped him, throwing off the covers that prevented them from getting close to each other. Dean's t-shirt added to the impressive pile on the floor next to the bed. His hands unfastened the fly of Cas' trousers, and his fingers deftly slipped under the white fabric of his boxers, firmly grasping the swollen hard cock. Dean's thumb stroked the smooth head once, and the second time it slid over the silky skin, smearing a drop of precum.

— Dean! — the angel groaned thickly, arching his back sharply and pressing his hot abdomen against the Winchester's chest, teasing him, bringing his seductively exposed neck to Dean's lips. Unable to resist the temptation, Dean pressed a hungry kiss to the smooth skin, feeling the rapid pulse on his tongue, extatically listening to Castiel's quickening breath . Dean's other hand lay on Cas' firm buttock, pushing him forward to meet his rough hand, which was confidently caressing his hardening cick more and more lustily. With a groan, Castiel pushed himself up, resting his hands on Dean's chest. His fingers clenched and unclenched in time with the quickening rhythmic movements, tracing the magic tattoo on the hunter's chest as Dean's caresses slowed to a gradual stop.

— Dean... more... I want more... — Cas whispered obliviously. His hot hand closed over Dean's fingers, begging him to continue the luscious sensation.

— You don't think I'll just leave uou like this, do you? — Dean reached out a hand to Cas' heated face, gently stroking his flushed cheekbone. Tnd the angel's hot lips pressed tenderly against his palm, descending to his wrist, leaving a wet imprint. Dean sank his fingers into the unruly curls of Castiel's dark hair, drawing the angel to him. Hold him against his naked skin was a fantastic sensation, and Cas felt the same, judging by the deep sigh he drew as he leaned forward to Dean.

Carefully rolling over, Dean turned the angel onto his back and landed on top of him between his thighs. Not denying himself the pleasure of enjoying the sight, he gazed rapturously at the beautiful, strong body shimmering like bronze, stretched out before him, waiting for even more pleasure. Leaning down to the well-defined collarbone of the angel, Dean touched it with several intoxicating kisses, moving lower, his lips snatching Cas' nipple, which immediately tightened under his wet tongue. It took the Winchester a moment to realize the way his lips curved in a smile at how easily and willingly the angel gave in to his caress. How could he evenhave doubted that Cas had been waiting for this hot touch for so long, yearning for the maximum possible intimacy that Dean himself had dreamed of during sleepless nights, thinking that these dreams would never come true?..

Putting his hands on the bed on either side of the angel's sides, Dean reverently continued to cover his chest with kisses, moving to Cas' stomach, which was throbbing with the rhythm of his heart. Soft moans, mingled with the sound of hard breathing, souded like music in the Winchester's ears. Sliding down to Cas' lower abdomen, Dean casually touched his cheek to his erect cock and buried his face in the dark hair, inhaling its sweet, enveloping scent. Cas' fingers touched his temple gently.

— Dean... what are you doing? — the hunter heard a quiet question.Which might not have been a question in itself, but he didn't really want to go into the rhetorical details right at that moment.

— What does it look like? — Dean grinned.

He propped himself up on his hands so that he could get a good look at Cas' quivering cock before fulfilling his audacious plan. The large pink head, glistening with precum, the slight curve of the shaft to the abdomen, the expressively visible veins, the short thick hairs at the base, the tense scrotum —everything seemed so perfect that only an impatient sigh from Castiel brought Dean out of the trance into which he had begun to fall, admiring the masculine beauty of his lover.

Leaning down, he slowly ran the tip of his tongue over the surface of the head, listening to his feelings and to the angel's reaction. This silky smoothness and slightly salty taste, giving off some unearthly cool freshness, attracted and excited so much that he wanted to caress his angel with an incredible desire. Never before had Dean even had to see another man's cock so close, let alone touch it with his hands and mouth. Perhaps because of this, the adrenaline caused the blood to pound in the hunter's temples, and his breathing to become deep and irregular. His hand insistently gripped the base of Cas' cock, and his lips stroking the head, and he began to move smoothly down and up, plunging the head deeper into his mouth and increasing the pressure with his tongue.

Castiel's fingers crumpled the fabric of the sheet. It was all he could do not to move his hips too much to meet Dean's caresses, not to interfere with him or hurt him. It took only a minute or a bit more for Cas, panting, to touch Dean's short hair as carefully as he could and pull gently, warning him that he was not far from orgasm. The hunter gently pushed his hand away, pinning it to the bed and clearly not going to stop.

— Dean! — Cas groaned in a strangled voice, arching his back, and several more loud moans escaped from his throat as the cum poured out of him in hot bursts into the Winchester's hot mouth. Dean prepared as best as he could for that ending, meeting every impulse and carefully swallowing the bittersweet liquid, smelling of the same elusive ozone freshness that was difficult to describe in human words. A few whitish drops were smeared on the surface of Cas' cock and on Dean's lips, and Dean carefully collected them with his tongue while Cas, gradually regaining his deep, breathing noisy, as if half asleep, gently stroked his freckled shoulder...

When Dean carefully lay down next to the angel, trying to calm his own arousement, he was met by a tired look of pleasure-befuddled blue eyes and a lazy smile from Castiel. His chest gradually rose and fell under the hunter's carIng hand. Dean had never seen such a look from his angel before, so he was mesmerized and shaken, unable to look away, drowning in that alluring blue. When he came to his senses after a few long moments, he was a little confused, and Cas noticed it, despite the languor that enfolded his relaxed body.

— Are you all right, Dean? — he asked.

— Who, me?.. Sure! And you? — asked Dean hastily in his turn, lost n his own words.

— Oh, more than that, — Cas muttered in a half-whisper. — But I hope we're not done yet…

His hand rested gently on Dean's bare shoulder, where Castiel's hand had once left the mark during Dean's rescue from the pit of Hell. The Winchester thought back for a moment to their crucial meeting. Suddenly his gaze fell on his own body, then on Cas', and Dean let out a surprised sigh.

— Cas, look… Do you happen to know... where's our clothes? I remember exactly that it remained on me... and on you — well, partially...

— Oh yeah, right, — Castiel waved his hand vaguely away. — Don't worry, Dean, I just took it off us because it seemed completely unnecessary. I can get it back if you want...

— No, no, you don't! Dean objected quickly. Sure enough, the clothes he hadn't taken off himself were stacked neatly on the nightstand. — Hmm, that's a nice trick!

— Thank you, Dean, the angel said lightly. Turning to Dean, he snuggled close to him, wrapping both arms around him and throwing his thigh around Dean's waist. Dean moved even closer, and they would have spent a lot more time entwining their arms and legs like a pair of lovesick octopuses, but they quickly realized that wasn't enough. Castiel's hand slid smoothly over Dean's stomach, and his fingers rested on his still-erect cock, squeezing it in a soft ring.

— I want you to feel good with me, too, Dean. Am I doing this right?

— Cas, you don't have to... — the Winchester began, but quickly changed his mind when the angel tightened his grip and began to move his hand up and down, gently pressing. — Oh, no, forget what I've said ... damn... Please go on…

As Castiel felt Dean grow more and more aroused by his petting, and hearing his moans, which Dean could no longer restrain, Castiel admired his face, which expressed the highest pleasure, and suddenly realized that he was caressing both himself and Dean with one hand. A few more movements, and they both came almost simultaneously, and their cum mixed in Cas' hand, spilling profusely over his graceful fingers...

— Are you still thinking... about the Shadow?

The last thing Castiel wanted right now was a reminder of the cosmic entity that wanted to have him, but Dean guessed right.

— I got you, didn't I? — he heard the sleepy voice of the older Winchester again, a little muffled due to the fact that Dean nuzzled Cas' hair.

— I did, I win't deny, — the angel agreed with a sigh.

— It's probably a little slow on the uptake, too. It's like the story about some dude who told other dudes not to think about the white monkey. Sammy once told me, — Dean hugged Castiel tighter and kissed his disheveled curls. The Winchester's words had gradually slowed down due to the inevitably impending slumber. — Like, think of anything but that white-haired thing with a red ass… What was his name… Well, whatever. Anyway, since then, all those other guys had been thinking about was the damn beast… I think that kind of thing can work on angels, too, Cass. We just have the Shadow instead of the monkey.

Dean had almost passed out to the steady rhythm of Cas' breathing when a soft voice woke him.

— Nasreddin Hodja, — whispered the angel, without opening his eyes.

— Huh? Who? — the hunter didn't understand.

— That dude you told me about... that's his name.

— Aaah... probably… I don't remember.

— According to legend, he played a joke on those people, saying that they shouldn't think of a white monkey if they wanted to achieve immortality. Only here we have the opposite.

— Exactly, — Dean felt less sleepy and rubbed his fingers over his eyes. — Well, okay! After all, it works! You're here... with me...

— Yes, I'm with you, Dean. I don't want to think about the Shadow when I'm with you. I don't even think I do... but it seems like it's not easy to forget about it, especially now that I want to be with you every minute of my existence, and it could tear us apart.

— Well... if you even start to forget about the Shadow, I can... — Dean hesitated, but soon continued, — I can, as I often do, blurt out something stupid in a temper, you know... yell, get raw with you... — then the Winchester felt completely confused and sat up on the bed, staring at the white fabric of the sheet on his lap. — By the way, just for the good of the cause, — he added quickly, — not... to hurt you…

— Dean, — Cas stopped him softly, — thank you. I've known you for years and I know what kind of person you are, — the angel continued, putting an arm around Dean's shoulders. — You often say things in a hurry that you regret later. I see it, and it often hurts. But if you do this for me as a care, I appreciate it. — The angel put his lips close to Dean's ear, and now the hunter could clearly hear himsmiling. — You're very good at being a bear and a grump.

Lifting his face, red with shame, Dean felt a sense of relief. His lover was joking. After Dean had just clumsily tried to apologize for the hurt he'd caused the angel in the past, and promised some utter nonsense in addition. And now Cas was not only laughing softly, which one didn't see very often, but he's also laughing at him!

— Hey! Cas! — Dean couldn't help but smile, too. — I'm talking about serious things here, by the way! I would have smothered you with that pillow right now... if I hadn't been too lazy…

— With this one? — Cas went on laughing. — Here, take it, Dean. It won't work, though. I'm an angel, breathing isn't necessary for me. Look, give me your hand.

He took Dean's hand and pressed it to his chest. A couple of breaths, and it stopped rising and falling, and after a few seconds Dean stopped feeling the heartbeat of Cas, who continued to smile at the suddenly serious hunter.

— See? My grace can well replace both breathing and blood circulation. Although it's not worth doing for a long time, so as not to waste it... Dean, what's wrong?

Dean shrugged, as if he felt cold, though the room wasn't cold at all. Castiel looked at his face with concern and saw the pain that Dean was trying to mask, but the semblance of a smile that he was trying to hide his sadness with was only a nervous twitch of his lips. He couldn't help but remember with horror how, just like that, a couple of years ago, Cas wasn't breathing, his heart wasn't beating, and the charred traces of his burned wings were spread out on the dusty ground, and Dean was standing over his cooling dead body, helplessly looking up at the indifferent dark sky, as if it could give him back his angel…

— You... don't ever do that again, Cas, okay? — his voice was hollow. – Don't. Please.

More out of fright than necessity, Castiel took a deep breath, his heart pounding again under Dean's hot palm.

— Dean, look at me, — Castiel lifted Dean's pale face and gently touched his lips to his forehead. — I understand you, I will not leave you again, do you hear? I love you... always loved you, no matter what! Dean…

Already knowing how sweet it was to kiss those soft pink lips, Dean felt that it could be even more beautiful when those lips had just repeated his name and whispered words of love. With such an amazing addition, it was so breathtaking that it seemed as if he was being carried up somewhere by a wave of unspeakable delight. The joy filled his soul to the brim, making him light-headed to the feeling that physical reality was momentarily ceasing to exist around him…

***

...They sat, closely embracing each other, under the dome of the blue-black wings of Cas, which he carefully covered his beloved. Opening his eyes, Dean stroked the soft flexible feathers, and the angel's wings quivered slightly with pleasure.

— And you're really not angry? — the angel asked seriously, just in case. — You said you had digestive problems from teleporting, I remember. — CAS reached out to touch Dean's forehead.

— I lied then, Cas, I lied! — Dean interrupted, grinning awkwardly and catching his hand. — My digestion is fine. I just...

— What, Dean? Why did you lie? — Castiel asked, puzzled. He lowered his wings a little, and the pinkish rays of the rising sun lit up his face.

— I'm just scared of flying, scared as hell! — Dean rattled off, determined to be completely honest. — Right up to the point of nausea and cold sweat! It just paralyzes me to think of going anywhere — by plane, by helicopter, by ... freaking airship, dammit! And the same thing with angelic flights! I just didn't want to give myself away as a coward, that's all…

Turning sideways to Cas, Dean hunched his shoulders and buried his bare toes in the warm sand. Meeting the dawn on the tiny deserted island in the Pacific where Cas had taken them was not part of his plan, but he had to admit that it was beautiful. The sound of waves splashing against the gently sloping shore just a few meters from where they were, the clean white sand beach, the small palm grove behind them — such wild exotic beauty he had only seen on TV and on a computer monitor in rare moments of rest, only sometimes dreaming of visiting somewhere like this place.

— There are things that are difficult to control, even if you are a brave warrior. You're not a coward, Dean, — Castiel encouraged him, and wrapped a wing around the Winchester. His wings were already translucent to Dean, and his fingers passed through them as he tried to touch the feathers losing their density.

— I wish I could see them for longer, — the hunter said with a sigh. – You like it when I touch them, don't you, Cas?"

Castiel nodded, a slight flush emerging on his face, mixing with the sun's glare on his bronzed skin. He realized that soon, when the connection between the human soul and the angel's grace became even stronger and more unbreakable — thanks to the magic, and perhaps to the feeling that had grown so strong in just a few days — Dean would be able to see and feel Castiel's wings whenever they both wanted to. Meanwhile, the last hazy features of those wings were fading, hiding from Dean's view for the time being. Cas rested his head on Dean's golden-freckled shoulder and watched the waves roll gently over the sand.

— Do you like it here? I was here recently and I wanted to give you something in return, Dean. Something that would make you happy. And I thought it might be a good idea to bring us here, because you said you'd never seen the ocean.

— Of course, I like it very much! But you don't need to give anything in return. That's what presents are — they are made selflessly, just so that the person who is given them feels good.

— Oh, I... I feel very good, Dean! I am very grateful to you, but this is not courtesy, believe me. I just wanted your dream to come true. At least this small one.

Dean's lips moved closer to the angel's face, and Cas closed his eyes, waiting for the kiss. He received it, light and gentle, and immediately heard a low whisper:

— So, Cas. I need you to confess...  
Castiel's eyes widened as he saw Dean's mischievous smile.

— Can angels swim? — Dean interested suddenly, rising to his full height. — I'm not just curious. We are going skinny-dipping in the ocean!..

***

Sam knocked on the door of his brother's room politely.

— Dean! Are you awake?

— Err... Nope! — came the reply, too quick and too hoarse for a man who was really awake. — Wait a minute...

— It's okay, — Sam said, noting with a grin that Dean hadn't invited him into the room. —Mom called, she and Jack found a lead on the case, and they asked to come over.

— Oh, well, get ready for now. How far is it to go?

— It's in Nebraska, just a couple of hours. I'll go by myself, I just wanted to tell you.

— Dammit, Sam, just wait! — there was an indistinct noise, a couple of low curses, and the sound of something falling.

— Don't fuss, Dean! Have a rest, — Sam declared with a chucle as he walked down the hall to the stairs.

— Oh man. Just take care of Baby! — Dean shouted after him.

Cas' fingers slid lightly over Dean's shoulder.

— Sammy seems to understand, — the hunter murmured, turning to the angel before crawling back under the covers and kissing Castiel on his tenderly smiling lips. — Well, I don't care. I mean... well, I'm grateful to him.

— Weren't you scared when I brought you back here? — Cas asked solicitously.

— Mmm... No. Okay, just a little. It's a great idea to teleport when we're kissing. Maybe I'll get used to it so soon. I'm a little dizzy, and these ... you know, butterflies in my stomach. Even funny.

— Butterflies? — Castiel's surprised blue eyes made Dean smile.

— Yes, it's an expression. It feels like this... when you are in love. — Dean stared into those amazing azure eyes, and the words came out of his mouth in themselves: — Cas, I love you.

— I know, — came the answer, which made Dean's eyebrows twitch in surprise. He expected to hear something different, but Castiel continued, and everything became clear. — Do you know... that you talk in your sleep, Dean Winchester?


End file.
